


we never sleep, never get tired

by genki_trash (shittykawa_chan)



Series: shut my eyes and count to ten [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anime, Blood, Guns, Haikyuu - Freeform, Iwaizumi is a cop, Karasuno, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Police AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seijoh - Freeform, Serial Killers, Torture, Trauma, Violence, Volleyball, Yaoi, aoba josai - Freeform, haikyuu au, iwaoi - Freeform, oiiwa - Freeform, the iwaoi no one asked for, this is complete and utter trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9249695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittykawa_chan/pseuds/genki_trash
Summary: Hajime's life rapidly changes as he works to hunt down a serial killer.





	1. into the streets, we're coming out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tothemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothemoon/gifts).



> For tothemoon because on lightning, on luster is so amazing and I'm currently questioning my emotional stability.
> 
> I'm complete trash. This is complete trash. and it was initially supposed to be a one shot but I got lazy so now it's not.
> 
> Here's the Iwaizumi cop! and Oikawa volleyball player au NO ONE ASKED FOR BUT FUCK I WROTE IT ANYWAY.
> 
> (title from Swedish House Mafia's Save the World).

Iwaizumi Hajime was used to late nights and excessive amounts of stress - his best friend was Oikawa, for God's sake - but this stack of paperwork that magically appeared on his desk this morning is honestly going to get him sent to hell, that is, if being gay didn't get him sent there first. He glares at it resentfully, then around the room, looking for someone who might have shifted some (most) of their work onto him. His glare lands on Nishinoya Yuu, who was the libero for Karasuno during high school. 

It was honestly a complete coincidence that they ran into each other at the police academy and he didn't expect to see the energetic, female-loving volleyball player there either. Then he found out that Nishinoya joined the academy for the uniforms because apparently they made him look "hot as hell" and would "pull the chicks, although Kiyoko-chan is still number one." Hajime wished he had a volleyball then so he could throw it at Noya's head like he had with Oikawa in high school. Instead, he settled for violently breathing. 

"Nishinoya, you're a detective, you should do your own work," he says, sighing heavily and looking at the first stack of paperwork: a report on the most recent case he and Noya had worked on. "I really don't feel like doing the paperwork on the dildo theft." 

Noya cackles, spinning around in his chair gleefully. "I really don't want to, _Hajime-chan,"_ he singsongs. "Can you imagine what I would write if you allowed me to do it anyway?"

Unfortunately, he _can_ imagine how it would turn out and so he grudgingly agrees to write the report, along with the fifteen other cases on his desk. The day is long and he's grateful for his lunch break because his stomach had been digesting itself for the past two hours. He stands and stretches, raising his arms above his head and feeling the satisfaction in the slight burn. Rolling his shoulders a few times to loosen his muscles, he turns to Noya.

"Lunch?" He asks, raising an eyebrow questioningly, shoving his wallet in his pocket.

"I knew you loved me." Noya grins, grabbing his wallet and striding passed his partner and Hajime follows, sighing heavily.

They take the elevator to the police precinct lobby where Hajime sees Oikawa just walking in. His childhood friend grins widely when he sees him, opening his arms for a hug. His brown hair is "artfully tousled" as usual and he's wearing a black tracksuit with a white t-shirt underneath. He looks out of place among all the police uniforms and detectives in suits.

"Iwa-chan!" He shouts, flinging himself on Hajime. "Let's eat lunch!"

Hajime sighs, shoving Oikawa's arms off him and continues walking, hearing his friend trail behind him. "As long as you don't mind Noya eating with us," he says.

Oikawa gasps, easily catching up to Hajime's stride. "Iwa-chan, don't tell me you've become _close_ with Yuu-chan? Are you finding a new best friend?"

And despite knowing how vain and annoying and trashy Oikawa can be, Hajime also knows that he sometimes has these moments of uncertainty and insecurity. He can tell by the slight strain that shows in his voice, or the lightning flash loss in control of his facial expressions that would go unnoticed by people who haven't grown up with him. But he's always been bad with words and emotions, so instead of saying some incredibly heartfelt words or something, he just slings his arms around Tooru and they walk together alongside Noya, who's rattling on about some new story about what Hinata and Kageyama had gotten up to last weekend when they were drunk to the point of no return. They go to a restaurant to eat katsu, but Oikawa ends up stealing most of his meat while trading in his veggies, so Hajime's meal consists of mostly rice and vegetables. He doesn't finish all of his rice though because carbs. 

"Idiot, you should eat your own food." He grumbles as they walk down the sidewalk, back towards the precinct. "I'm half-starved because of you." 

"You should be grateful I even took the time to steal your food." Oikawa sniffs, turning his nose up. "I've blessed you with my presence. The least you could do is share some of your food; you act like you don't love me." 

"Shut up, Shittykawa."

"So, Grand King," Noya says, interrupting their usual argument. "How's your love life? Have you become impotent yet?" He asks, his tone full of envy at the female attention given to Oikawa. 

"I'm still single." Oikawa sighs, a smug smirk making its way onto his face. "It would be a crime to let just one girl have me. Although I'd love it if Iwa-chan would arrest me." He winks at Iwaizumi and blows a kiss. 

Hajime flushes, grabbing Oikawa and putting him into a headlock. He gets whiff of Tooru's deodorant, citrus and fresh, and he swallows, pushing back any thoughts he has. Yes, he finds his best friend incredibly attractive, but that doesn't mean he's in _love_ with him or anything. He's just sexually frustrated because it's hard to find someone to just bang while keeping it a secret from everyone else around him. They stop in front of the precinct and Oikawa throws his arms around Hajime's neck, hugging him tightly. 

"See you at home, Iwa-chan!" He says, hopping away and waving briefly before turning and walking away.

Hajime walks inside the building, realizing he didn't even notice Noya had left ahead of him. He walks to his desk, sitting into his spinny chair and ignoring the smirk his partner throws his way. The intimidating pile of cases stares him in the face and he sighs tiredly, cracking his knuckles before putting his fingers on the keys and typing up the reports. Noya rolls over in his chair and Hajime wants to hit him for sitting in it backwards and being unprofessional, but then he realizes he doesn't really have time to distract himself if he wants to finish these reports by seven.

"So, you and The Grand King-san are looking as close as ever," Noya grins devilishly. "Anything you want to share, Iwa-chan?"

"No," Hajime grouches, glaring hard at his screen and he comes to the realization that he hasn't typed a single word in the past five minutes.

"Are you sure? That was a pretty intimate 'see you later' hug."

Hajime grunts, ignoring Noya for the rest of the day because honestly, he just wants to finish his work, go home and eat a nice, satisfying meal while watching _Criminal Minds_ on Netflix since it's his turn to choose the dinner entertainment. By the time he finishes work, it's six o'clock (Noya had secretly taken half his work load while he thought Hajime wouldn't notice, but he's a detective for god's sake) and he grabs his suit jacket before he walks out the elevator doors just as they start to close. He had briefly waved goodbye to Noya as he was leaving and he had received a nod in return. Hajime makes a mental note to buy him lunch as a thank you. 

The sky is darker and the September night air is chilly, a telltale sign that autumn is soon to arrive and he makes another mental note to dig out the winter scarves because Oikawa gets cold easily. He walks to the station quickly, his breath just barely visible in the short time he's outside. He catches the train at the last minute and ends up giving his seat to a sweet, old lady at the next stop. Hajime gets off the train at his stop and walks out the station to his shared home with Oikawa. He's in the middle of loosening his skinny, black tie and taking off his shoes when Oikawa walks down the stairs, glasses on and tiredness evident on his face. 

"Studying your opponent again?" Hajime asks, nodding a hello and heading to the kitchen. It's also his turn to cook dinner. 

"You're home early," Oikawa yawns, slumping into a chair at the dining table. "And kind of. We play Osaka Blazers Sakai tomorrow for a preseason practice match. There’s a lot of studying to be done since they’re a pretty strong team. They’ve been V. Premiere League champions seventeen times! Anyway, you're welcome to come if you're free, Iwa-chan!" He smiles brightly, propping his head in his hands. 

“I’ll see what I can do, if I can’t make it, I’ll text you,” Hajime says, pulling out a pot of leftover miso soup from the fridge. “Anyway Shittykawa, will you be starting?” 

Oikawa became the newest member of the FC Tokyo team after he got scouted during his college season. Unfortunately, he couldn’t immediately contract with the team since his knee injury began causing trouble again. So, after a surgery to fix it up and months of physical therapy, Oikawa finally signed with FC Tokyo and excitedly put all his effort into practice. Hajime figures all his hard work is starting to pay off if he is able to start in the match tomorrow.

"I am starting! The coach has _finally_ started to recognize my skills," Oikawa grins widely, and Hajime is reminded of their last year at Kitagawa Daiichi when Oikawa won the Best Setter award. He knows that however snarky his best friend may sound, Oikawa is genuinely happy and proud to already be recovering so quickly after therapy and to have earned his place on the starting roster so rapidly. 

Hajime turns his back, facing the stove, so Oikawa doesn't see his proud grin and get a bigger head than he already does. He hopes the city is good tomorrow and there's no crime so that he'll have a chance to go watch his best friend play. Hajime hasn't seen the new and improved Oikawa play yet, hasn't seem him play since high school, honestly, which causes a pang in his gut. The miso finishes warming up on the stove, so he spoons some into two bowls with a side of rice and carries everything to the table where Oikawa sits, exhaustion clear on his face. 

"Oi, Sleepkawa," Hajime says, placing a bowl down in front of his exhausted friend. "Sleep in my room tonight, so I can make sure you _actually_ sleep for your match tomorrow." 

"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa gasps, mockingly covering his mouth as if he's appalled. "Do you want to defile my purity by inviting me to your bed?" 

Hajime frowns, annoyed. "Well, the offer is off the table then, unappreciative Stupidkawa."

Oikawa whines, slurps his soup obnoxiously, and flicks grains of rice at Hajime until he gives and repeals his previous threat. It had become tradition since they moved in together. When one is stressed, or has an important event around the corner, they would sleep next to each other, cuddling to make sure the other is well rested and comfortable. The tradition, while having provided many a good night's rest, has also given Hajime some unwanted morning wood that followed a week's worth of teasing from Oikawa. 

The rest of their meal is finished in silence, but after twenty-three years of friendship, the comforting silence and occasional footsie wars underneath the table are enough for the two of them. Hajime cleans the dishes when they're both done, deciding to forgo his usual _Criminal MInds_ night and instead get ready for bed. By the time his usual routine is finished, he finds Oikawa already in his bed, lounging back on the side closer to the wall, already knowing by experience which side Hajime prefers. Hajime flops down on his bed, sighing as his muscles relax and he exhale slowly, feeling all tension release from his body. Oikawa turns to his side to face Hajime, smiling softly. 

"Iwa-chan," he whispers, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. "Good night." 

Hajime grins, ruffling Oikawa's hair, letting his hand rest briefly on his cheek before he turns away. "Good night, Shittykawa."


	2. turn up the love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime finds himself dealing with a serial killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, i'm not dead and it's been forever since i even worked on this story but here's an update... *runs away shamefully*
> 
> idek how many readers there are on this story lmao

Hajime wakes up at five in the morning so he can make it to work by five-thirty. He’s careful when getting out of bed because he wants Oikawa to get all the sleep he can get and rest well for his match today. There’s a chill in the room, a sign of the oncoming winter, even though autumn started not long ago, and Hajime breathes the cool air in to wake himself up fully. He walks to the bathroom to take a five-minute shower and quickly gets ready in his usual suit that is semi-mandatory for his detective position. He decides to forgo a tie because even though it’s supposedly required, Noya gets by every day without wearing one. Plus, in case of emergencies and bouts of laziness, such as today, Hajime has an extra tie in his desk drawer at work in case his boss gives him The Lecture about work-appropriate attire or something. 

“Iwa-chan? Good morning,” Oikawa yawns, sleepily blinking his eyes open and Hajime has never seen a more angelic sight in his life. Sunlight shines through the window and lights up Oikawa’s face, making his features look soft and cuddly in the morning lighting. 

Hajime swallows, straightening his jacket. “Shittykawa,” he says, making a move to walk out the door. “Sleep some more so you can play at your best.” 

Oikawa snorts, landing back on the pillows, the blankets laying around his waist and revealing his prominent abs because somehow (Hajime can’t fathom how) Oikawa lost his shirt during the night. He notices that this tends to happen every time they sleep together, but Hajime pushes the thought to the crevices of his mind, alongside all his dirty fantasies about his best friend and his somewhat confused, in-denial feelings. 

“How mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines. “You were going to sneak out without saying good-bye? What am I? A one-night stand?” 

Hajime knows that _if_ he and Oikawa ever happened to do something more than sleep next to each other, it would mean so much more than a simple one-night stand. There would be _feelings_. “Shut up, Shittykawa,” he rolls his eyes. “I’m going to work. Good luck today.” He rubs Oikawa’s hair briefly, messing it up further, before quickly walking out of the house so he can catch the train. 

Walking into the precinct is the usual ringing telephones and uniform officers either taking a coffee break or bustling out the doors to and from patrol. He goes up the elevator to the floor for detectives and sits at his desk, already seeing a stack of files. As a detective, he shouldn’t have to deal with minor cases, but recently they’ve been short of hand due to an internal investigation. Apparently, a few officers in the precinct have been smuggling drugs from the drug busts and selling it for extra money. 

“Yo, Iwaizumi,” Noya nods from his desk. It’s always a wonder to Hajime how Noya always shows up to work earlier even though he doesn’t seem like the early riser type. Hajime nods his own greeting before cracking his knuckles and getting to work. 

Not even an hour into work and he’s called to Captain Irihata’s office with Noya. It’s unusual for anyone to be called to the captain’s office, unless there are behavioral issues, important cases, or any promotions. Hajime doesn’t remember _doing_ anything that called for attention, and he doesn’t think he’s getting a promotion. The atmosphere in the captain’s office is much different from what Hajime was expecting – much more serious, more grave. Irihata looks worn down – heavy bags under his eyes, pale skin, and an unnatural gleam in his eyes that comes with too many sleepless nights and too much caffeine. 

“Close the door when you come in,” Irihata sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “This is of utmost importance and we can’t have anyone overhearing.” 

Hajime quietly shuts the door behind him, taking a seat in the chair next to Noya, and quietly waiting for the topic of discussion to begin. He wonders if this meeting has anything to do with the corrupt officers who have been becoming more and more of a problem lately, as well as the internal investigations from the higher-ups. Curiosity burns in his mind, small tendrils poking around his brain as he rapidly creates various reasons as to why they could be sitting here in utter secrecy. 

“Aside from our major internal problems, another unsettling development has taken root,” Irihata says, lacing his fingers together on the desk in plain, impersonalized desk in front of him. “And as my two most trusted officers, I’d like to have you two on this case.” 

Hajime leans forward, the police captain’s tone piquing his interest even further. He prides himself on being one of the more dependable people in the department, having many of his fellow officers place their respect and trust in him completely. He feels a brief twinge of pride before brushing it off and focusing on the matter at hand. “We’ll do what we can to help you and if taking this case will do that, then we’ll gladly take it,” he says, making a motion to grab at the manila folder on the desk. 

He feels a bout of nausea hit him when he opens it and he sees Noya’s face pale at the sight of the photographs inside. Irihata sees their expressions and his own morphs into one of sympathy. As detectives, as _law enforcement_ , they’re used to seeing dead bodies. It’s part of the job, but it’s still shocking to see pictures, especially when the deaths are more gruesome than usual. 

“Unfortunately, we have another serial killer on our hands,” the captain tells them, distress written on his face. It’s mildly surprising, since serial killers are rare in Japan, the last conviction having been in 2005. “He’s had three victims so far, all young, successful men. I’d say they’re all plenty attractive as well. Although there’s no evidence of sexual abuse, the killer strips them of all clothing and binds them. He then tortures them extensively, as evident in the photographs you have in your hands,” Irihata continues, delivering the briefing information as apathetically as possible. 

In this line of work, it’s better to not get emotionally invested in the cases because it will only cause more trouble than is worth in the long run. Hajime nods, flipping through each of the victim’s profiles and carefully keeping his emotions in check. 

“After he’s done with torturing them, he kills them by making a clean cut across their throat. As a finale, he places a white rose in the slit throat,” the captain grimaces, recalling the images. “Ah, what creativity.” 

Hajime joins in the sentiment, feeling disgust and hatred for the killer already. From what he’s learned from the file, the perpetrator is a young male, well-built, and around 190 centimeters. The perp has managed to hide his physical features from any videos cameras that may have briefly spotted him. Other than that, the killer is meticulous, and Hajime suppresses a shudder because the more careful the killer, the more dangerous. 

Irihata-san looks at the two of them sympathetically, looking as if he’s aged twice as much in the fifteen minutes they’ve been debriefed. Hajime nods, not so much as in thanks, but more so in acknowledgment. He and his partner walk back to their desks, pulling up a drawing board so they can tape the victims and try finding connections between each of them. Hopefully, the killer doesn’t choose his victims randomly, so he’s easier to catch. They spend the rest of the day desperately searching for anything that might be shared among the three victims, from frequently visited coffee shops to six p.m. yoga. Hajime writes down addresses and numbers to family, close friends, and significant others so they can ask questions. 

He quickly pulls out his phone to text Oikawa that he can’t make it to the practice match. 

_4:00: Sorry, Shittykawa. A big case came up, so I can’t make it to the practice match. Good luck._

Hajime isn’t expecting a reply and isn’t surprised when one doesn’t come since Oikawa is probably warming up for the practice match. He mutters a quick thank you to one of his kouhai who places a hot coffee on his desk. Noya is working just as hard, brow furrowing in concentration as he stares at the victims’ photos on the white board. He’s been pulling up their credit card purchases for the past hour, scouring through them to see if they happen to visit any of the same places. Hajime can tell there has been little luck from the way his lips are pursed, frowning in frustration. 

They both should take a break, having worked nonstop for eight and a half hours, and Hajime is just about to suggest one when an officer walks in, face grim. “There’s another body.” They – Hajime and Noya – are both shocked because it’s still fairly bright out and committing a murder in broad daylight is pretty risky, especially for this evidently careful killer. Hajime frowns, getting the location of the body from the reporting officer and he grabs his keys before walking out of the building with Noya. 

They end up in Shimbashi district, the big business district where salarymen frequent after long shifts for cheerful drinks and hearty meals. Hajime parks in front of the taped off area, watching as the forensics people take pictures and samples of the crime scene. He hopes they find some sort of incriminating evidence, but he highly doubts they would be so lucky. He walks up to the first responding officer, who directs them to the restaurant owner who called about the body. The restaurant owner, Takahashi-san, turns out to be a frail, old woman who is very shaken when Hajime and Noya walk up to question her. 

Hajime makes sure his tone is gentle and calming when he asks her questions to help her feel more at ease. “Takahashi-san, where and at what time did you find the body?” 

“I found him behind my restaurant where we throw out the trash,” she answers, voice wobbling slightly. “We open at five-thirty, since most of our customers are salarymen who come by after work, so we don’t open earlier. I was throwing away some trash before we started prep for the day and I found an unconscious man… as I walked closer -,” she suddenly cuts off, a sob wracking its way through her fragile frame. 

“You don’t happen to know this man, do you, Takahashi-san?” Noya asks, pulling out his notepad. 

The old woman nods in reply. “I only knew him as Sato-san. He was a regular at our restaurant and was always so loud and cheerful. I never saw him alone since he was always the center of attention. He had a magnetism that just drew people to him.” 

Hajime and Noya thank her, asking one of the officers to take care of her, before they walk to examine the body. There’s only one forensic officer – Yaku Morisuke – waiting for them, so he can relay his findings. 

“It’s definitely the same killer,” he says once they’re in hearing range. “The body has been dead since last night, though, so he hasn’t killed today… hopefully. Estimated time of death is 11 P.M. and cause of death is the cut throat. He definitely moved the body here because there is no way he was able to torture this man without someone hearing,” Yaku relays. “I can do a full autopsy once the body is taken back to the morgue, but for now this is the most I can gather.” 

Hajime thanks him, looking at the naked, dead man on the ground. He’s pale – Hajime doesn’t know if that’s his natural skin tone or death - with brown hair that is spiked almost like Hajime’s own hair style. The man, Sato-san, looks to be roughly 185 centimeters and is well-built with toned muscles. His face was probably once handsome before the killer horribly disfigured it. Hajime turns away, steeling himself to break the news to the family. As he walks back to the car with Noya, chills run along his spine and he gets an uncomfortable feeling that he’s being watched. He looks around carefully, observing the crowd of curious passerbys who are watching the crime scene with interest. He looks at the people ignoring the scene and who continue on their way, but he find no one suspicious and chalks it up to paranoia. 

He shrugs his shoulders, forcefully relaxing his muscles. “Let’s go, Noya.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowowow hope you enjoyed???? i'm trying to make this suspenseful and shit but idk if it's working??? and if you need me to put in any warnings then i will. don't hesitate to mention if anything is triggering :)


	3. pay attention and listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been so long since i updated... sorry about that. a lot of things happened and this week has been pretty rough for me, so i decided to do something good and produce something lmao.

Hajime lets out a heavy sigh as he rests his head on his desk, trying to relax the tenseness in his shoulders. As much as it pains him to admit, Noya and he haven’t made much progress on the case. Four victims, four families who have lost a father, brother, son, or husband, and unfortunately, Hajime has a sick feeling telling him that the numbers will continue to grow, especially with the lack of clues they have available on the case. He rubs his head in frustration, hair becoming more mussed than usual. Footsteps approach his desk and he looks up to see a patrolman holding an envelope in his hands. 

“Hello, Detective Iwaizumi. This was left out front and it’s addressed to you.” 

Curious, Hajime takes the orange envelope, his rank messily scrawled across the front. He tears open the seal, biting his lip in anticipation. His blood runs cold, goosebumps raise on his skin, and his stomach bile churns when he pulls out the contents. 

“What is it, Iwaizumi? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Noya comments, concern leaking into his tone. 

Wordlessly, Hajime turns the contents of the envelope over to Noya, who also pales at the photos. Photos of Hajime at the last crime scene. He peers into the envelope and sees a sheet of paper with a typed letter. 

_Dear Detective-san,_

_  
_

_I saw you at Shimbashi today and it was love at first sight. Oh, how I fell in love with your chiseled jaw, stern expression, and broad physique. I just had to send you a letter of my affection alongside these delicious photos of you at the crime scene, admiring my work. Don’t worry – I’ll leave another gift for you soon, so I can see you again. I hope to learn your name soon. I’ll be thinking about you. I love you, Detective-san._

The chills don’t recede and Hajime takes a deep breath to collect himself. It’s a good thing the killer has found a fascination with him, he tells himself. Now they finally have the start of a profile. A thought registers and he quickly leaps from his chair and hurries over to the tech department. It’s possible that one of the security cameras on the street could have captured his face. After viewing the security footage of the surrounding area, frustration builds and he slams his fist on the desktop. 

“Fuck!” He curses, feeling hopeless at being brought back to square one. “He knew where the security cameras were and avoided being directly seen by them.” 

Hajime heads back to Noya so they can update the drawing board with the pieces of evidence that have recently come to light. This is a man who has narcissistic and obsessive qualities, shown in how he stayed nearby the crime scene to review the reaction to his work and in how he latched onto Hajime and sent him a letter. 

“The suspect is a young male around 190 centimeters, well built, who has displayed narcissistic and obsessive behavior. His M.O. is young, successful businessmen. He tortures them, then slits their throat, strips and binds them, and finally, post mortem, places a white rose in their throat,” Hajime reviews the suspect profile to Noya. “We also have a handwriting sample that we took back to the lab to see if there is a match in the system, but results came back negative. So we need to find out what his motive is. Ideas?” 

Noya rubs his chin thoughtfully, mentally reviewing the suspect’s profile once more. “Hm, why the white rose though? White stands for purity and innocence, which is nothing close to the murderer’s actions. Unless…” He trails off. 

“Unless he believes he’s purifying them. I guess a lot of people see business men as corrupt, money-hungry, especially if the suspect has a lower socioeconomic status. Maybe the torture is the suspect’s way of breaking off the corruption piece by piece until he finally redeems them from this world,” Hajime finishes, sitting himself on top of Noya’s desk and crossing his legs. 

They’re finally starting to find pieces of the puzzle that hadn’t come with the box, slowly building this case to catch the killer. Unfortunately, even if they cross-reference their current clues in the databases, there are hundreds of criminals whose profiles match and they can’t possibly bring in every suspect. Finding a needle in a haystack would be easier because what they’re doing is trying to find one specific fish in an ocean, a black cat in a coal cellar. When both his and Noya’s phones ring, a feeling of dread weighs down his stomach, and he just _knows_ that the killer has caught another victim. 

_._ 

Hajime and Noya arrive at the crime scene in the red light district of Shinjuku. The scene is a flurry of yellow tape and bustling officers barring the red blood spatter on the dirty asphalt from the public eye with forensic and CSI workers gathering evidence and taking photos of the crime. Hajime isn’t very shocked to see another note on the victim’s chest after the killer’s last few words in his previous letter. He opens it reluctantly to find that instead of typing it, this time the killer cut and glued letters from magazines and newspapers to create a collage in the form of another letter. 

_Detective-san,_

_  
_

_I left another gift for you and this time I made you a big, red smile. I love you, Detective-san._

He’s horrified to find that the killer had indeed left a twisted smile on the victim by slicing the cheeks from the corners of the lips up towards the ears. He also feels heavy guilt with the fact that the victim died earlier than he should have because of the killer’s sudden obsession with him. He cringes at the blood stained paper in his hands, turning to ask for the medical examiner’s results. It’s the same M.O. as all the other murders, aside from the sudden changes, obviously triggered by the murderer’s new fascination. He folds envelope and has it logged into evidence and asks forensics to check for fingerprints. 

“Iwaizumi-san,” chief medical examiner Daiki Hasegawa calls out to him, holding a folder in his hand. “After performing an autopsy on the other corpses, I was able to determine plausible tools that were used in the torture. The missing fingers were cut off most probably by pliers; well, cut is putting it nicely - it’s more like they’ve been pulled off at the joints. There are multiple cuts and gashes made from a blade; from the precision of the cuts, I’d say the blade is definitely sharpened. So, either it’s a brand new knife, or the killer has the means and skills of sharpening his knives. The victims also have multiple burns on their bodies - small, and in random places - and they seem to have been inflicted from a long piece of heated metal - perhaps a pipe, or crowbar.” 

Hajime thanks him after he is finishes giving the report, skimming the details once again. “Unfortunately, the items are fairly ordinary. We don’t know if they are recently purchased items, or not, so we can’t really track the tools. Is there anything distinctive about the torture, or any of the tools?” 

“I was just about to show you,” Hasegawa says, turning to walk towards the covered body. He bends down at the feet and pulls off the black bag, grabbing the ankle and turning it to show Hajime. His latex gloved finger traces a burn mark just along the Achilles tendon. 

“Is that-?” Hajime asks, peering closer to the leg, reaching out to trace the reddened skin. 

“A brand,” Hasegawa confirms, letting Hajime take hold of the leg to get a better view. “All the bodies had this brand burned into it. I checked with known brands and family seals, but no results came up, so this must be custom made.” 

“This is ground breaking. Thank you, Hasegawa. It seems his narcissism is really showing through.” 

Hajime takes a picture of the brand burned into the skin - a dragonfly and a butterfly circling each other. When he was a kid, his grandmother would tell him stories about Japanese folklore and he knows from those stories that the butterfly symbolizes the souls of the living and the dead. He doesn’t know what a dragonfly symbolizes, but he’s sure it doesn’t mean anything good when paired with a butterfly. He makes a note to research its meaning later and stands, placing the black bag back over the feet of the corpse. He surveys the area, looking for CCTV cameras, but is frustrated to only spot one at the corner of the block. The lack of security cameras is a result of cheating businessmen not wanting to be caught (something about red district businesses having client confidentiality) and Hajime curses, asking one of the forensics people if they can get footage from the lone camera. Hopefully, the dots will connect and they get another step closer to the killer. 

_._ 

Hajime and Noya have been working on this case for 30 hours now, working until it’s over. Though Hajime planned to be home by six to have dinner with Oikawa, the case led him to work well past one in the morning. 

“Oi, Iwa, let’s get some rest. We won’t get far on the case if we keep working on no sleep,” Noya says, standing from his seat and stretching his arms above his head. “We both need a break.” 

Hajime reluctantly nods, knowing that his partner is right, so he packs up his stuff and mimics Noya’s stretching position. The trains aren’t running at this time of night (morning), so he’s probably going to have to catch a cab home. Or… “Noya, can I crash at your place?” 

Noya shrugs in assent, not even phased by Hajime’s question. In fact, he looks like he was expecting the question from the moment Hajime stood up. Hajime is grateful that Noya lives close enough to walk, his back aching from sitting for so long. He shoots a quick text to Oikawa, letting him know that he won’t be home. 

_1:45 a.m.: Shittykawa, I won’t be back tonight. I’m going to crash at Noya’s since his place is closer. Rough case going on… tell me how your game was tomorrow. Go to sleep, Idiotkawa._

His phone pings not even five minutes later with a reply and he rolls his eyes in exasperation. 

**1:43 a.m.: so, rude Iwa-chan! ((╬●∀●) i can’t believe you’re cheating on me (ᗒᗩᗕ)՞. Be safe iwa-chan~!**

Hajime rolls his eyes at Oikawa’s use of emoticons, feeling a tingling feeling in his chest (it’s not love, it’s irritation) at the last line. He’d never admit that he found Oikawa’s texting cute and simply… Oikawa. He follows Noya out of the building and catches up when they're on the sidewalk; they walk in silence, each listening to the early morning sounds. People only see Noya as a loud, energetic detective, but Hajime has seen this side of him enough to know that early mornings are a time for thought and quiet. It’s at this time when Noya’s personality is dampened and he takes the time to appreciate the calmness of the dead of night. They walk into Noya’s apartment, Noya quickly setting out an extra futon for his guest and they both strip for bed, exhaustion clinging to their bones and weighing them down. Hajime is surprised that they didn't collapse sometime on the walk to Noya’s home. As he’s drifting to sleep, he makes a note to check up on butterflies first thing in the morning. 

_._ 

Hajime wakes up at six in the morning to the sound of Noya stirring in his bed. He’s always been a pretty light sleeper and the tenseness the case has brought to him has only made it worse. He stretches and yawns, the four. hours of sleep feeling like a godsend after going 30 straight hours without. He pulls on yesterday’s clothes, not bothering to ask Noya if he could borrow any since their size difference makes it apparent that none of his partner’s clothes would ever fit Hajime. He pulls out his phone to check for any messages, and seeing none, he pulls open Google. 

**Dragonflies in Japanese culture**

He pulls up a link on important animals in Japanese culture, scrolling through the list of koi, frogs, and cranes, until he finally spots a paragraph on dragonflies. 

_“In Japan, the dragonfly is a symbol of martial success, as various names for the insect are homophones for words meaning ‘victory.’”_

“Martial success and victory, huh,” he mutters to himself, locking his phone and greeting a now awake Noya. “Is this psycho declaring war? On what?” 

He sighs, walking to the bathroom to brush his teeth with his finger and walks out to see his partner finishing up with getting ready. His phone rings and he answers it, expecting it to be Oikawa wishing him a ‘good morning, Iwa-chan!’ He chuckles when he’s right, following Noya as he walks towards the door. They’re probably going to pick breakfast and coffee along the way, since neither of them really want to spend any extra time cooking something. 

“Iwa-chan~! When are you coming home? The house is so lonely without your brutish face to make fun of,” Oikawa whines into his phone and Hajime scowls. 

“Oi, at this rate, I’m never going to come back. I’ll just move in with Noya,” he retorts. 

Noya throws him a flat look. “Iwaizumi-san, please don’t.” 

“What’s with the sudden formality!” Hajime gasps jokingly and chuckles when he hears Oikawa tossing insults through the receiver. 

“Iwa-chan never has time for me anymore!” Oikawa says and Hajime can practically see the pout his best friend is sporting. There’s a moment of silence for a couple of seconds before Oikawa gets the last word in. “Be careful, Iwa-chan.” 

Hajime clicks off his phone, putting it in his trouser pocket alongside his wallet. He and his partner walk to work in silence, savoring the cool morning air and the rustling of people getting ready for work. The warm feeling the good morning had brought is washed away with the realization that the case is still unsolved with hardly any leads. The precinct is bustling as usual and the two make their way to the homicide department where they have the case board set up. Hajime is ready to do some research on local official seal makers when a patrol officer makes his way in with a package. 

“Detective Iwaizumi-san, this came in around four-thirty in the morning. No one saw who dropped it off,” the officer says, handing him a package. 

Hajime gets a cold feeling when he sees the familiar scratchy handwriting, but then he freezes when he realizes that the box is addressed to him. When had the killer learned his name? _How_ had the killer learned his name? He quickly rips apart the packaging, fingers shaking slightly. 

_Iwaizumi Hajime, what a fitting name for you, Detective. I fell in love with it as soon as I found out what it was, simply because it’s your name._

_You can’t believe how easy it was to find out, by the way. Unfortunately, how I found out is a trade secret, but maybe I’ll tell you when we see each other. I don’t like keeping secrets from my loved ones, after all._

_See you at home. I love you, Hajime ~._

He feels bile rise up in his throat, but he swallows it down, trying to clear his head when Noya clutches his arm tightly, face paling drastically. Eyebrows knit in confusion, Hajime asks what’s wrong. 

“Iwa,” Noya says, frantically grabbing his gun and badge. “He said _see you at home!_ Who else lives in your home?” 

Hajime’s heart stops as the realization of what Noya is trying to say washes over him. He, too, grabs his gun and dashes for the stairs, the elevator being too slow. 

“Oikawa!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like it! my writing isn't the best, i know, and it needs a lot of improvement. but i hope the suspense is building!!


	4. catch in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a 4 part fic, but now it's 5 parts because I'm too lazy to write one huge chapter.
> 
> ALSO be wary of the addition of the NON-CON tag, trigger warnings for: non-con, torture. It's spotty, so there's multiple parts, but here is the start of the scene:
> 
>  
> 
> _"I'm pretty good at tying knots..."_
> 
>  
> 
> and it ends at: _"during the time Hajime collected his thoughts..."_
> 
> The non-con scene with torture starts at: _"Hajime you're so beautiful"_ and ends at _"I'll just have to teach you."_.

There’s a suffocating panic wrapping itself around Hajime, making it hard for him to breath as he runs to catch a cab to his apartment. He’s only felt this sense of panic one other time: when he watched Oikawa’s leg crumble underneath his body weight and his body laying still, unmoving, face scrunched in burning pain. But this panic is accompanied by its companion, terror, which seizes Hajime’s heart and rattles it around his body, causing his heart to beat rapidly. He’s never been so scared before, and his brain runs wild creating various scenarios, none of which end well. He can’t imagine what he would do without Oikawa, without his aggravating teasing, his stubborn pride, his vanity, his laughter, his frowns, the way he says _Iwa-chan_ , and crawls into Hajime’s bed in the middle of the night. He couldn’t bear losing him, especially not if it was his fault.

The cab stops in front of their apartment and he throws money at the driver, not bothering to collect the change. His fear rises when he sees that the front door is ajar, something that would never happen normally. Hajime prays that Oikawa isn’t home as he draws his gun and cautiously makes his way inside. Inside the apartment is eerily silent, aside from the humming of the refrigerator, and he gets an uncomfortable feeling of _wrongness_ , as if his and Oikawa’s sacred placed has been dirtied and violated. He makes his way through the front of the house, clearing the kitchen and living space, before heading to the bedrooms. He checks Oikawa’s first, because Oikawa’s safety will always, always come first, and is relieved when it seems that he isn’t home. Hajime then makes his way to his bedroom, cautiously swinging the door open and mentally thanking his past self for oiling the door hinges after getting annoyed with the constant creaking. A mix of revulsion and fear runs down his spine at the state of his bedroom; the previously made bed rumpled and used, his drawers open with clothes strewn across the floor, and in the middle of his floor rests a plain piece of paper with a sloppy heart drawn on it. At this rate, his heart is thumping wildly, his hands are shaking and clammy, and he feels jittery and watched, eyes darting around the room in case the murderer hadn’t left yet. Hajime strides forward, slamming the window shut and drawing the curtains closed, glad - not for the first time - that he invested in blackout curtains. There’s a clatter behind him and he whips around, gun raised, poised to shoot.

A yelp sounds from the person as their hands raise in an attempt to shield themselves. “Iwa-chan, it’s me!”

His brain finally processes who is standing in front of them and he’s horrified, quickly lowering his weapon and walking forward briskly to pull Oikawa into a tight hug. He’s not ashamed to admit that he is near tears with the relief rushing through his body. He doesn’t realize he’s muttering ‘ _Tooru_ ’ repeatedly and stroking Oikawa’s hair until Oikawa pulls away, clutching at Hajime’s shirt.

“Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?” He questions, lips pulled down in a frown and eyebrows drawn together, an expression he would normally never make since he ‘can’t afford to get wrinkles.’

“Oikawa, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at practice?” Hajime demands, raking his eyes over his best friend’s body in search of injuries or signs of distress.

“I forgot my Pocari drink and came back because I knew you would get angry if you found out I forgot to drink it again. _Iwa-chan_ , what’s going on?” Oikawa replies, voice raising in volume and pitch as he becomes more stressed at Hajime’s unusual, out-of-character behavior. The Iwa-chan he knows doesn’t show fear like this; he doesn’t cling to Oikawa like it’s the last time they’ll see each other.

“Oikawa, you need to pack a bag. Get out of this apartment,” Hajime says, leading Oikawa by the arm across the hall. “Quickly. You should stay with Mattsun and Makki.”

“ _Why_? Iwaizumi, answer me, _now_ ,” comes an angry demand that makes Hajime huff an impatient sigh. Forget what he said about missing his stubborn pride.

“Look, there’s a serial killer who’s obsessed with me, alright?” Hajime answers, still looking anxiously around the apartment. “And he managed to find out my address and my name and who know what else. Idiotkawa, _you aren’t safe here_ , and I’ll be damned if I let you be in fucking danger because of me, so move your ass and start packing.”

Wordlessly, Oikawa packs a bag while Hajime pulls out his phone to call the precinct to get CSU and forensics people down to process his house, since it’s now a crime scene. By the time they arrive, Oikawa has his essentials packed into a duffel bag that is strung across his shoulder as he glares at Hajime fiercely. They walk out together in silence, waiting for some privacy before they begin talking again. Which isn’t long, considering how much Oikawa loves to run his mouth. Hajime wishes he could shut him up by punching him in the mouth. with his mouth. softly.

“What about you?” Oikawa asks, and his harsh tone surprises Hajime somewhat. “What are you going to do? It’s dangerous for you, too!”

“This is my job, Oikawa,” Hajime rolls his eyes. “Anyway, while you’re staying with Mattsun and Makki, I don’t want you going _anywhere_ alone. I don’t care if it’s just to the fucking toilet, you’re taking someone with you, understand?” He presses, his tone serious and he knows that Oikawa knows that he isn’t playing around. “The killer has been in our apartment, which means he probably knows of your existence. We don’t know enough about him to know how we will react, but he could see you as a threat and I don’t want to risk putting you in harm’s way.”

Oikawa walks him to Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s apartment, staying with him until they return home from volleyball practice and the hospital, respectively. The silence between the two of them is thick with tension, unspoken words hanging in the air and a cluster of worry swirling around them. Hajime knows Oikawa will worry - they’re best friend’s for god’s sake - but he can’t let anything distract him from the case because there’s too much at risk now.

“Oikawa, I’ll be okay,” Iwaizumi says, rubbing his best friend’s head in assurance after seeing the worried pout on his face. “You can call me for updates and if I don’t pick up, you can call Noya. And don’t worry; I’ll put a protection detail on you so you’ll be safe.”

Oikawa frowns and crosses his arms. “You could use a protection detail yourself. You said the killer is obsessed with you.”

Hajime nods, resting a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. “Yeah, he is, but to an extent, it could be a good thing. Maybe we can lure him out somehow.”

“Use you as bait?” Oikawa scoffs in disbelief.“Iwa-chan, he’s already killed _how many people?_ You’re in danger! How do you know he won’t kill you, too!”

“This is my job, Idiotkawa!” Hajime yells in frustration. He really didn’t want to argue with Oikawa right now. “It’s in the job description to put my life on the line! I can’t just _give up_ because of a criminal - that would go against everything. Don’t insult my pride.”

“Your shitty pride will get you hurt, you idiot!” His best friend is screaming now, eyes suspiciously wet, and his body trembling, whether from rage or fear, Hajime doesn’t know.

Hajime is about to respond - something along the lines of how that’s rich coming from him - when someone clears their throat from behind them. He turns and sees Mattsun and Makki standing in the doorway, faces uncharacteristically serious. “Are we interrupting something?” Matsukawa asks, looking between the two of them.

“No, it’s fine. I need to go back to work anyway,” Hajime shakes his head, walking towards them. “Please keep an eye on Oikawa at all times. He might be a potential target now; we don’t know. Keep him safe for me,” he whispers to his other two best friends and they nod, worry in their eyes.

“Keep yourself safe, Iwaizumi,” Mattsun says, waving as Hajime heads towards the elevator.

Hajime nods, lifting a hand lazily as a goodbye and quickly exiting the building. It’s around noon now, time having flown during the chaos. The streets are bustling with people taking their lunch breaks and laughing with their coworkers. He hopes none of them are the killer’s next victim. He heads back towards the precinct, an unsettling feeling of being watched nudging at the back of his head, but as he fully rotates in a circle, all he sees are business men and women. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hajime shakes it off to paranoia from earlier today and speeds up, writing out a quick text to Noya saying he’s on his way back. The trip is quick and he subconsciously relaxes in relief upon seeing the familiar work building knowing that he had fellow officers watching his back in there.

Hajime is walking by an alleyway when his arm is forcefully grabbed and he’s dragged into the shadowed area. The struggle is short and his efforts only get a knife held to his throat, right along his jugular. He gulps, feeling the blade dig in a little rougher at the movement and he stays still.

“Hajime, please stop moving,” a low, breathy voice whispers into his ear, slowly walking him deeper into the alley. How did no one notice him getting kidnapped? “I’d hate to have to kill that pretty little toy you have living with you because of your non-cooperative behavior.” 

His words immediately make Hajime freeze and he wait obediently for any words or instructions from his captor. He knows this person is the serial killer, knows that he will follow through on his threat if Hajime so much as breathes too loudly. A cloth is suddenly slapped over his mouth and nose, making him gasp in surprise. A mistake, since it just makes him inhale the chemical even quicker. He can already feel the effects making him drowsy and dizzy, making him lose his muscle control. Hajime’s eyes are slipping closed as his captor begins moving him again, taking him farther away from any help he can hope to receive. His body finally gives into the drug and slumps completely, his consciousness leaving him. The last thing he sees is the light at the end of the alleyway and he reaches out weakly.

_I’m sorry, Oikawa._

_._

Coming back into consciousness is a foggy experience accompanied by a pounding headache, reminding Hajime ofhis early college days when he woke up after partying too hard. It takes a moment for his brain to process the series of events that led him to this moment and he holds in his groan, feigning sleep for as long as he can.

“Don’t try and fool me, Hajime ~,” a voice sing songs, slowly coming closer and closer to him. “I realized the moment you woke up; it’s really not hard to hear changes in breathing patterns, you know.”

Hajime looks up with a glare, feeling his eyes protest as a bright light meets his gaze, shadowing the face hovering above him. A feeling of inferiority and rage rushes through him at the thought of having to look up at the killer, and he resists against the rope tying his wrists behind his back. 

“I’m pretty good at tying knots, if I say so myself,” the figure above him smiles - at least, Hajime thinks so, from the tone of his voice - and walks to stand behind him. “So it’s pointless fighting,” the man whispers, lips kissing the shell of his ear, causing Hajime to jerk away. “Don’t be rude,” his kidnapper scoffs, grabbing his pointer finger and quickly bending it until Hajime feels it snap.

He screams, wrists pulling frantically in an attempt to instinctually cradle his injury protectively against his torso. His finger now feels like fire, spreading rapidly before dulling into an ache, and he can feel how bent out of shape it is, but he he also feels a flash of relief at how the break hasn’t broken skin.

During the time Hajime collected his thoughts and adjusted to the pain, the killer had pulled up a chair in front of him, finally allowing Hajime to put a face to the reputation. The man in front of him graced with high cheekbones, prominent jawline, and straight nose. Objectively, he may be considered attractive, if not for the cold, dead brown eyes roaming Hajime’s body and the greasy smile aimed in his direction.

“Who are you?” Hajime rasps after taking in the man across from him. “What do you want?”

The man gives another slimy smile, leaning against the back of the chair with an air of smugness. “My name is Kudo Ichiro, thirty years old, currently between jobs. That’s all you’ll get for an introduction for now; after all, we have plenty of time together. As for what I want, now Hajime, I thought you were smarter than that. _I want you_.”

_._

Yuu knew something was wrong when Hajime sent him text saying he’s on his way, but never ended up arriving. A tension builds in his gut, but he stays calm as he dials Oikawa’s number. The phone is answered on the second ring, which leads Yuu to suspect that Oikawa’s been waiting by his phone since Hajime left.

“Oikawa-san,” Yuu begins, unsure of how to word his thoughts. “Iwaizumi - is he with you? Has he left yet?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the line and Yuu can feel the other’s panic rising. “What do you mean _is he with me_? My question should be: is he with _you_? He left around twenty minutes ago for the station!” The pitch and tone of the other’s voice is borderline hysterical and Yuu can’t blame him. It’s taking all he has to shove his panic and fear down for the sake of his partner’s safety.

“He never arrived, Oikawa-san.”

Indiscernible shrieking comes through the speaker and he can he slight sobs escaping Oikawa’s lips. He knows that this disappearance isn’t a coincidence and he knows that something bad has happening to Iwaizumi.

“Oikawa-san, we’ll find him,” Yuu says firmly, having no other option but to believe it because any other option bears bad news for his partner. “We _will_ find him.”

_._

Hajime watches warily as Kudo stands from his chair and walks forward to grab his chin and jerks it so Hajime’s neck is craning awkwardly to forcefully look up at his captor. A wave of weakness and vulnerability rushes through him as he defiantly pulls his lips back in a snarl.

“Hajime, you’re so beautiful,” Kudo whispers, stroking a thumb along his cheekbone. “I could just eat you up.” He leans down, mouthing at Hajime’s neck lightly. Hajime feels sick at the unwanted touches, the unwanted kisses; humiliation burns his cheeks and angry tears sting in his eyes as he attempts to lean away from the touch.

“What did I say about not being rude, Ha-ji-me?” Kudo asks playfully, a dangerous glint in his eyes. His words are followed by a harsh, deep bite - soothed over with long swipes of his tongue - to the junction of Hajime’s shoulder and he cries out in pain as he feels blood drip down towards his chest.

“I better not get a fucking disease from you, asshole,” Hajime hisses, jerking away and gets another broken finger for his efforts. He holds back the whimpers threatening to escape his throat because his pride won’t let him show his fear.

“Why do you keep fighting me, sweetheart?” His captor murmurs, grabbing his jaw again and covering Hajime’s lips with his own. 

Kudo moves his lips in a bruising manner, tongue prodding insistently for entry. Hajime’s brain doesn’t process the kiss right away, but when he does, he grunts and clenches his teeth in protest. The fingers on his jaw clench tighter, applying more pressure and pain, making Hajime’s mouth unwillingly open. 

Kudo’s tongue invades his mouth, licking around his tongue and teeth, swallowing the noises of protest and disgust that Hajime can’t help escape. The feeling is disgusting and wrong and slimy- breaths quick and shallow as bile burns the back of his throat. Hajime doesn’t _want this - he doesn’t want - doesn’t want -_

He bites down and the other man’s blood wells up, the metallic tang staining his tongue. Kudo pulls back, rage evident on his features as he raises his fist and repeatedly punches across Hajime’s face. The blows hurt less than the searing degradation of the kiss, the touches.

“Fuck! Look what you made me do,” Kudo breathes, gently cupping his cheeks and smearing the blood. “I didn’t want to do this, Hajime, but if you’re going to be difficult about this, then I’ll have no choice but to break you until can’t fight anymore.”

Hajime roars, fueled by desperation and rage. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Kudo laughs, the sounds eerily bright with an undertone of malice. “You don’t seem to understand your position, my dear,” he muses, gently picking up a knife from a table that stands off to the side. “I’ll just have to teach you.”

_._

Yuu isn’t prepared for Oikawa to come rushing into the precinct; well, that’s a lie, he knew it was coming, but he wasn’t prepared to deal with it. He also wasn’t ready for the two tall fellas that trailed after Oikawa - a tall, sleepy looking man, and a pink haired, mischievous looking fella - with worry evident in the knit of their eyebrows and the downturn of their lips.

“Yuu-chan!” Oikawa cries, running forward and grabbing onto his shoulders. “What happened? Did you find anything? Can I help? Where’s Iwa-chan?” His questions are rushed and borderline hysterical and he’s slightly shaking Yuu by the shoulders. 

Yuu sighs, a heavy weight dragging his shoulders down as he thinks of what to say. “All we know is that Iwaizumi texted me he was on his way, but he never arrived, and you’re saying he left your place. So somewhere between there and here, he was taken; we have officers canvassing the area and trying to track his cell.”

“But you’ll tell me if you find anything?” Oikawa prompts, eyes so full of hope and desperation that it wrenches the strings of Yuu’s heart.

“It’s an open investigation, Oikawa,” Yuu answers reluctantly, knowing his answer isn’t the one Oikawa is hoping for. “But I’ll see what I can do when the time comes. In the meantime…: he trails off to clear his throat. “In the meantime, you should see about contacting his family, just in case - just in case,” he finishes painfully.

Oikawa lets out a strangled sob and the two men who came in with him wrap their arms around him in a hug. Yuu tells them they can wait in the station, for both production and first hand updates when possible. He decides to follow up on the brand mark left on the victims’ bodies, looking up local seal or metal work shops that may have made the killer’s design. Yuu gathers a few trusted cops and asks them to go to three of the six shops that he found, so that he could cover the last three. Frustration builds up as the first two shop owners deny knowing the brand design when shown the picture, and Yuu is on the verge of giving up hope when he walks into the last shop on his list.

“Hello, welcome to Watanabe’s Metal Workshop. How can I help you?” An kindly old man smiles from behind the counter, crows feet crinkling.

Yuu walks up to the man and pulls out the photo. “Have you ever seen this design before? Or made this design for anyone?” He asks, watching the man’s face for any microexpressions. 

The old man studies the photo, putting on a pair or glasses to examine it more clearly before nodding in affirmation. “I have seen this before. A young man came in asking for me make a simple iron brand with this particular design.”

Yuu’s stomach jumps in excitement at the first lead they’ve had on this case since the beginning. He reigns in his emotions, “do you keep a log, or paperwork that your customers fill out? Stuff like name, address, contact info?” Watanabe-san asks these questions calmly, crossing his fingers that they get a name, at least.

“I don’t ask for addresses, since I don’t do deliveries, but I do keep a log of customer names and contact information,” the old man replies, reaching under the counter and pulling out a binder. “Let’s see - I made that design a month ago for a…” the old store owner trails off as he searches the page, finger following the words as he reads. “Ah! I made it for a Kudo Ichiro; he left his cell phone number.” 

Yuu asks the shop owner to write down the number and the old man complies. “Also, do you remember what this young man looked like?” Yuu questions.

The old man’s forehead crinkles in thought as he tries to recall the man who purchased the brand. “Hm, he was young - around late twenties to early thirties. He came in wearing a hood over his head both time, so I’m not certain of his hair color, but it was a dark color. He also had brown eyes. He’s a very handsome, young man. Is he in trouble?” The store owner asks curiously, and Yuu gives a weak smile in return.

“We aren’t sure yet. Thank you very much!”

Yuu quickly pulls out his phone and texts the chief, asking if he can get an address for Kudo Ichiro. The flicker of hope that almost died out earlier burns a little brighter as they get closer to finding Iwaizumi, and to an extent, Kudo.

He rushes back to the precinct in preparation for an arrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! feel free to comment and leave kudos!  
> and if you'll notice down here that it is now a part of a series - the second part will follow Hajime's recovery immediately follow the end of the story's events.


	5. bowed down, nothing else left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The last part is finished and here it is!
> 
> Please read the end note!

Hajime wants to die. He thinks he felt like that somewhere between a a serrated knife being dug into his palm, pinning it to the arm of the chair, and the moment Kudo came all over him and forced him to eat some of his cum.

He’s not sure what he did in his past life - maybe he was a murderer - to deserve this, but if he was ever a disgusting excuse for a human being, he repents. Hajime internally pleads to Fate for mercy - through death or rescue, whichever comes first. He just wants it all to end.

His attention is drawn again when Kudo waves a hand in front of him, smiling widely and one arm held behind his back. Hajime dreads finding out what it is.

“Hajime, realistically I know I can’t keep you forever. The cops, your friends, will find me eventually; sooner rather than later, I’m sure. So, I’m going to make it so you’ll never forget me; I’ll always be with you, even if I’m rotting in a prison cell, a mark of my love be imprinted on you forever,” Kudo grins, bringing out a brand, the design of which Hajime recognizes.

The seal that marked all the victims. Hajime feels his stomach flip as he renews his struggle. He’s revolted at the thought of forever belonging to the sociopathic serial killer. Kudo laughs lightly, quickly thrusting the smoldering metal forward into the lower abdomen on Hajime’s left side. Hajime screams, thrashing to try and escape the burning hot pain. After what feels like a lifetime, the hot iron is pulled away and the sickening image of the butterfly and dragon fly is left behind, a scarlet mark on his torso.

Hajime doesn’t know when he started crying; he realizes it when he sees the hot tears dripping off his nose onto his pants as his head hung low in defeat. 

“Is your spirit broken, Hajime? Do you understand now? You belong to _me_.”

Hajime remains silent in his despair, gaze fixated numbly on his newly inflicted wound.

“ _Forever.”_

_._

Tooru’s stomach has been churning since he first received Noya’s phone call. He knows he’s not much help - if anything, he’s probably more of a burden, the way he’s been carrying on - but he breathes in a shaky breath to steady himself. Tooru pulls out his phone, staring at the number in his contacts before hitting call. He listens to the line ring, dreading the conversation to follow.

“Tooru! It’s so good to hear from you! You and Hajime need to visit more often you know!” A voice answers cheerfully after a couple of rings.

“Auntie…” he begins, pausing to think about how to begin the conversation. “It’s good to hear you, too,” Oikawa settles on eventually keeping his voice low, even though Noya had let him use an interrogation room for privacy.

“Are you okay? You’re usually more chipper… Is Hajime okay?”

Oikawa stays silent, not wanting to be the one to break the news because he can already hear the panic seeping into her tone and knows that her heart will break when he tells her. He wonders how doctors and police officers can do this regularly. 

“Tooru, what happened to my baby boy?” Iwaizumi-san’s voice is raising in pitch, beginning to tinge in fear and panic.

“Auntie, I don’t know how much Iwa-chan told you about the case he’s working on. Truthfully, I just heard the details only about an hour ago,” he spits bitterly, even though he knows it’s not the time to be angry at Iwa-chan for not warning him sooner about the danger. “He’s been chasing a serial killer, but somehow the serial killer became… obsessed with Iwa-chan. He went missing a little less than an hour, Auntie.”

There’s a pained gasp heard on the line followed by muffled sobs. Oikawa’s heart clenches; he’s familiar with the pain. The worst part is the not having answers - not knowing where Iwa-chan is, if he’s even alive. 

“They’re searching for him right now. The lead detective said he’ll update me as much as is allowed since it’s still an open case.”

The sobs settle down, but sniffles and shuddered breathes still make their way through the phone speaker. “Tooru, we’ll be on the next train in, okay? Please keep us as updated as you know.”

“Of course, Auntie.”

_._

Yuu rushes into the station, excitement bubbling up his throat and heart pounding with anticipation. He quickly logs onto his computer and searches the criminal database for a Kudo Ichiro, hoping to find a face to the name and an address. Yuu slams his fist on his desk when the result comes up empty. At least, no plausible results. The three matches that pop are either in prison or on parole, giving them all alibis. 

 

It’s frustrating to find his lead snatched out from under him and anxiety builds in his stomach as he wonders if they’ll ever find Iwaizumi. He doesn’t even know if his partner is alive right now, but he’s banking on the sliver of hope that the serial killer’s obsession will stave any harm. Yuu wracks his brain for another solution, or even any sort of clue that could give him answers.

 

He’s staring blankly at the case board, trying to draw connections between the victims when inspiration smacks him across the face and he jolts forward, fingers clacking on the keyboard. His suspect might not have any prior criminal record, but he might in the government database, where each government worker is recorded. 

 

Yuu searches the name and grins when a search pops up. He grins wider when one of the names happens to be unemployed, and has been for three months, a little before the first victims appeared. He quickly jots down the current address and calls for uniformed officers to follow him, identifying that the suspect could possibly be armed and dangerous.

 

“Also, keep an eye out for Detective Iwaizumi,” Yuu adds over the police radio. “The address we’re going to is the suspect’s home. Detective Iwaizumi may or may not be held there. Be cautious.” 

 

The wail of sirens rings throughout the streets as they speed to Kudo’s home and cars pull over to clear an easier path. He screeches to a stop in front of a modest two-story house, alongside two other police cars, and leaps out with his guns drawn. Yuu motions for two officers to go around the back while the other two trail behind him to cover his back. 

 

He rings the doorbell to the house, announcing himself. “Kudo Ichiro, this is Detective Nishinoya Yuu of the Tokyo Police Department and I’d like to ask you a few questions. Open the door!”

 

He’s met with silence and if they were in a cartoon, crickets would surely be heard chirping. Deciding they’ve waited long enough for an answer, Yuu kicks down the front door and they storm the house, weapons drawn. They move from room to room, carefully looking around in case Kudo was hiding to ambush them, but also searching for Iwaizumi.

 

Yuu wants to scream in frustration when the other officers report to him that the rooms they searched were also clear. As they do a more in depth search of the house, they find photographs of the victims in various places, at various times of the day - proof that he was stalking them, at least. In the entire home, Yuu couldn’t find any sort of clue for a second home or hideout where Kudo could be keeping Iwaizumi.

 

He curses, running a hand through his hair and frowning hard enough to give himself a headache.He asks the uniformed officers to do a search through Kudo’s payments to see if there have been any unusual payments, or payments for other residences.

 

As soon as he walks into the station, Oikawa is rushing towards him, a glimmer of hope on his face. Yuu hates to disappoint him, but a shake of his head crushes the hope instantly and he watches as Oikawa’s shoulders slump uncharacteristically.

 

“I kept texting and calling Iwa-chan’s phone even though I know he won’t answer, but,” Oikawa rambles, voice trembling and eyes watering.

 

Yuu tunes him out as he strides by him, Oikawa’s words putting an idea in his mind. “I’m such a fucking idiot,” he curses at himself, ignoring the Oikawa’s indignant yelp at being ignored.

 

He scrambles in his pockets for the piece of paper he got from the branding shopkeeper as he went towards his way to the tech room. “Oi, I need one of you to track this number right now,” he demands as soon as he swings open the door, careful to not slam it against the wall. Last time he did that, they banned him for a month and even now, they still hold a grudge for startling them so bad one spilled cup of coffee ruined four of their computers.

 

“Leave it there and we’ll get to it after we finish tracking down some other numbers,” the lieutenant on duty drones, clicking rapidly on his keyboard keys.

 

“No, I need this done right now. We have a missing detective,” Yuu growls, slamming his fist on the lieutenant’s desk. “One of our own is in the hands of a serial killer and tracking this number could save him.”

 

The lieutenant huffs before snatching the slip of paper out of Yuu’s fingers, frowning as he quickly punches in the cell phone number and waiting for the computer to pinpoint the location.

 

The wait, though short, feels like an eternity and Yuu can feel his heart beat in time with each passing second, the rush of blood roaring in his ears as anxiety and anticipation grips him tightly. He prays that when they find his partner he’s still alive, that is, if the killer is dumb enough to bring his phone with him to his hideout.

 

There’s a knock on the tech room door and a rookie uniformed officer peers in, excitement evident on his features. 

 

“What is it?” Yuu asks, crossing his arms curiously.

 

“Well, we found a house, not under Kudo’s name, but under his mother’s. Funny thing is, his mom has been in a nursing home the last three years. So, someone is still making payments to the house under her name.”

 

Yuu grins, taking the slip of paper with the address on it and telling the officer good work. He always found it important to reward and encourage newbie officers so that they were motivated to keep working hard. The tech lieutenant grabs his attention before pointing to the screen with ashrug. 

 

“We can’t pinpoint the exact location, but by bouncing the signal off some nearby cell towers I narrowed the location down this this area,” he said, tracing his finger along a highlighted circle on the computer. 

 

Yuu looks down at the paper in his hands. “Can you see if this address is in that highlighted area?”

 

With a heavy sigh (honestly, the attitude is so uncalled for), the lieutenant types in the address then nods. “Seems like it. You think that’s where your suspect is? Where our missing detective is?”

 

Yuu lets out a large breath, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s hope so, because if not, then we’re at a dead end again and Iwaizumi is going to be in danger that much longer.”

 

“Lady Luck shines upon you, Detective. The address you’re looking for happens to be in the highlighted area.”

 

Yuu grins victoriously, pumping his fist in the air and rushing out the door. He motions for some uniformed officers to follow him, rattling off the address to them before they leave the building. Just before walking through the revolving doors of the station Yuu feels a jerk on his sleeve and he turns to see Oikawa’s anxious face staring back at him.

 

“Yuu-chan? Did you find Iwa-chan?”

 

Yuu shakes his head, then pauses and shrugs. “Maybe, but we have a good lead. Don’t worry, Oikawa. If we find him, you’re the first person I’ll call, okay?” He says, reassuringly patting his friend’s shoulder. 

 

Oikawa bites his lip then nods, prying his fingers from the sleeve of Yuu’s suit jacket. Yuu wants to offer more words of assurance, but he _knows_ he shouldn’t. Police officers are taught in the academy to not make irresponsible promises because there’s never a 100 percent guarantee that they can keep it. Especially in this case, where his partner is the one at the mercy of a serial killer and the one desperately clasping his hands together and trying to put up a strong front is one of Noya’s friends.

 

“Good luck, Yuu-chan.”

 

_._

 

Hajime isn’t sure how long he’s been Kudo’s captive. It feels like it’s been days, but it’s probably only been a couple of hours. He’s pretty certain he’s been slipping in and out of consciousness, too, since he seems to have blanks in his memories and new injuries he doesn’t remember Kudo inflicting. 

 

He groans quietly, head rolling to one side as he stares blankly at his captor through one good eye, the other swollen shut from a particularly harsh punch across his face. The throbbing pain radiating from his face is welcome compared to the numbness thrumming through the rest of his body. Scratch that. He’s not sure whether he prefers the pain or the numbness because the pain reminds him of reality, of where he is; and the numbness distracts him, leaving him vulnerable to his thoughts. 

 

He just wants to go home. Where Oikawa is. 

 

Hajime just wants to see his best friend, and be held in his arms because right now, he could really use the hug. He wants to hear his his friend’s voice, feel his gentle fingers carding through his hair, and the comfort of his presence.

 

He wants to see his mother - her warm, kind smile hiding the underlying strength and sternness of her character. He wants to feel the comfort from breathing in her smell as she hugged him, likeshe used to do whenever he got hurt as a young boy. 

 

Hajime just wants - _needs -_ to be home. He rocks back and forth, vision blurry - whether from tears or just the pain of his head being smacked around - and mumbles. It’s only when Kudo speaks to him again that he realizes he’s been mumbling, “home, home, home,” repeatedly, almost indecipherably.

 

“Yes, Hajime, I am your home. I’m so glad you’re starting to come to your senses,” Kudo smiles a smile that Hajime thinks is supposed to be a happy smile, but instead it just looks crazed in that it’s stretched a little too wide and his eyes have an unnatural glint.

 

Or maybe that’s just the lighting - Hajime isn’t sure and he starts chuckling to himself in his head. That is, until he feels his body shaking and hears huffs of air, realizing it wasn’t in his head at all. How many of his thoughts are accidentally slipping passed his lips?

 

“Why are you laughing? Is something amusing you, Hajime?” His captor’s voice has taken on a dangerous tone, one that he knows will be followed by torture. He grimaces, but remains quiet because there’s no preventing the pain that follows.

 

Kudo sighs as though he’s just been relieved of a great burden, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. Out of context, Hajime would think that the look is fairly normal, relaxed, even, but within context he shudders. He can’t even imagine what kind of torture would put that smile on his face and he dreads the contents of the black briefcase Kudo places on the table in front of him.

 

“Hajime, I _promise_ you’re going to really feel this one,” comes a giggle and he whines low in his throat when he hears the click of the briefcase opening.

 

Hajime lifts his head to see ten syringes neatly lined inside the black casing, and he furrows his eyebrows, both in confusion and apprehension. 

 

“Five of these syringes are barbiturate, and the other five are amphetamines. I’m not going to explain all the science-y details, but here’s the gist: you’re bodily functions will slow down to a near stop with the barbiturate, and then I’ll speed everything back up to a high with the amphetamine!” Kudo is still giggling through his explanation while gently taking out the first syringe. “I’ve heard the stress on the body is actually quite painful, but you can endure anything, Hajime!”

 

“I can’t,” Hajime chokes out, terror rising in his gut and suffocating him and the fight inside him (fight he thought had died out) is renewed as Kudo gently flicks his finger against the glass. “Please, _please, no._ ”

 

The prick of the needle entering the skin of his right arm is the least pain he’s felt all day and he almost thinks he missed it until he feels the chemical working its way through his body. His breathing slows, even as he tries desperately to suck in more air and his pulse trickles to a weak _thump_ that he can’t control. As his eyes start to droop and his mind starts to fog, he thinks maybe it is a small mercy and he’ll die before Kudo gets a chance to stick the other needle in him.

 

Of course, life laughs in his face, stomps him into the dirt, and spits on him because not a second after Hajime has those thoughts does Kudo stick him in his left arm with the amphetamine. His before faintly beating heart starts racing, the thudding in his chest almost painful, and even though his breathing has been sped up, Hajime is still gasping for breath, chest shuddering dramatically. His body begins to sweat more than before and he shivers.

 

Another poke in his right arm. His heart slows down. Left arm. Speeds up. The fourth cycle has him sobbing desperately; at this point, his entire body burns with pain and he knows it can’t take the stress of being jerked back and forth much longer. His lungs feels like they’re on fire and his heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest. Hajime’s pretty sure his brain is low on oxygen if the headache and lightheadedness is any sort of sign. 

 

With blood roaring in his ears, Hajime can’t hear what Kudo is saying to him, but he does catch bits and pieces. 

 

_“…stop…”_

 

_“…tell me…”_

 

_“… Hajime…”_

 

_“you’re mine…”_

 

Hajime nods in defeat, the loss draining his soul of any fire. “I’m yours, Kudo-san. Please,just stop,” he whispers, battered body slumping in exhaustion as the chemical tug-of=war takes its toll.

 

“You’re such a good boy, Hajime.”

 

_._

 

Yuu pulls up to the address with two other squad cars screeching to a stop behind him. The house isn’t totally secluded, but it’s at the end of the block and around a corner, far enough from other houses that any suspicious noises won’t be heard. He announces their arrival and asks to speak with them; there’s no answer and when he doesn’t he any noises inside the house, Yuu thinks the worst and slumps his shoulders at the idea of starting back at zero.

 

Until the door opens, revealing a handsome face and cold eyes devoid of any emotion. 

 

“How can I help you, officer?” The man questions, standing in the slight opening of the doorway so that Yuu can’t peer passed him.

 

“Detective,” Yuu corrects automatically. “Are you Kudo Ichiro?”

 

The man nods, still smiling pleasantly, but doesn’t say a word.

 

“Do you mind if we come in and ask some questions? Have a look around?”

 

Kudo keeps smiling, his expression turning resigned as he nods and opens the door wider, arm spread out in invitation. “Come on in.”

 

Yuu accepts the invitation and motions for the other officers to follow him in; he narrows his eyes in suspicion at his suspect at the ease in which he is cooperating. “I’m going to be frank with you, Kudo-san,” Yuu begins, refusing the seat offered to him in favor of standing. “Are you the serial killer we’ve been looking for? And did you, or did you not, kidnap a police detective?We’ve already been to your home address, so cooperating with us would be much easier.”

 

Kudo grins, cold eyes twinkling just a bit. “I appreciate your candor, Detective. I suppose I should return the favor and admit that your accusations are all true.” He grins, moving to stand toe to toe with Yuu. The officers around warily place their hands on their weapons, but don’t draw them. “I’ll show you where Hajime is.”

 

Yuu blinks, surprised and unbelieving. “What’s the catch?”

 

Kudo chuckles, walking towards the cellar door and Yuu follows. “No catch. Let’s be honest with each other - you and your cop colleagues would have found me eventually, yes? I see no sense in struggling when you arrive and I’m definitely not going to run. I’ve got asthma. My time has come and I’m happy enough with the time I’ve had with Hajime.”

 

Yuu can’t believe it; the situation seems way too easy, but he cautiously handcuffs the killer then follows him down the steps to the basement. The metallic scent of blood hits him first, before he even sees anything in the dim lighting. His vision fuzzes out for a minute as his eyes adjust, but he almost wishes he didn’t when he sees his partner tied to a chair, breathing shallow and quick. Tear tracks trace through dried blood on his cheeks and his body glistens with sweat and blood. 

 

Yuu rushes forward, stomach lurching, moving to untie the ropes binding Iwaizumi. The unconscious body of his partner falls forward when the ropes are undone, no longer supporting him to the chair.

 

“Iwaizumi-san!” Yuu cries, and feels sick rising in his throat as his hands become sticky with blood. He looks at one of the officers who followed him into the basement and points. “Oi, call an ambulance! He needs medical attention, as soon as possible!”

 

He checks Iwaizumi’s pulse and frowns at the quick pacing of it. “What did you do to him?” Yuu asks Kudo, who is standing at the bottom of the steps with a satisfied, proud grin on his face.

 

“I just showed him my love,” Kudo answers. “And taught him that he will forever be mine; I’ll never leave him and he’ll never be alone.”

 

Yuu heaves Iwaizumi into his arms, motioning for one of the officers to help carefully carry him back up the steps. The remaining officers guide Kudo outside into the squad car and take him back to the station to be processed into the system and jailed until his trial. The satisfied smile never leaves his face the entire walk to the car and he glances one last time at Iwaizumi - a crazed, fixated look - through the car window as they pull away. 

 

Iwaizumi moans as Yuu and the other officer settle him onto the ground, flat on his back. “He’s stable, for now, and hopefully until the paramedics arrive. I don’t see any visible life threatening wounds…” Yuu trails off, placing his fingers back on Iwaizumi’s pulse point.

 

“But what?” The officer asks. “What are you worried about?”

 

“His pulse seems unnaturally quick. I don’t know what Kudo did to him, but did you notice the empty syringes laying on the floor? Who knows what was in them,” he answers, glancing worriedly at his partner and biting his lip. 

 

“Could it be from the pain and adrenaline?”

 

Yuu nods, but he isn’t convinced. “It could be, but the syringes have me worried. Call CSU and have them bag everything for evidence and then send the syringes to the lab to analyze the trace contents of them.”

 

The officer nods, pulling out his radio and calling for the crime scene team to collect evidence from the house. A cold wind blows over them and Iwaizumi’s body shivers on the ground. Yuu quickly pulls off his own jacket and lays it across Iwaizumi’s torso, as much as he can because even though they’re both bigger than in high school, Yuu is still a lot smaller than Iwaizumi.

 

Iwaizumi groans, eyes blinking open, confused as his mind struggles to register his surroundings.He turns his head and smiles when he sees Yuu. “Oh, it’s you,” he says before passing out again.

 

_._

 

 

Tooru rushes through the halls of the hospital after giving a brief update to Iwa-chan’s parents. He comes to a stop at the information desk, slamming his hands on it as he leans forward towards the nurse stationed there. “Can you tell me what room Iwaizumi Hajime is in?”

 

The nurse jumps, startled at his intensity and leans away slightly. “Sir, that information is for family only,” she replies, looking apologetic. 

 

“Please!” Tooru begs, and she seems to want to give in, but she shakes her head and he slumps forward in defeat. Maybe he should lie and say that they’re married, but his train of thought is interrupted before he gets a chance.

 

“Oi, Oikawa,” a voice calls for him and he lifts his head to see Noya heading towards him and Tooru feels his stomach churn at the red staining the front of Noya’s shirt. “I’ll take you to Iwa’s room.”

 

Tooru smiles, bounding forward and following his friend down the hallway. They enter the elevator, Noya pressing the button to the third floor and they wait until the ding signals them to exit. He’s guided down the fluorescent lighted hall, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming scent of antiseptic and sanitizers, smells he’s always hated, especially after his recovery period spent in the hospital after his knee surgery.

 

He gasps at the sight of his best friend, laying pale-faced on the bed in what seems to be a fitful sleep if the furrow between his eyebrows and the downturn of his lips is any indication. Tooru takes in the IV and various other machines hooked up to Iwa-chan, bandages wrapped in various places around his body, fingers placed in splints and face colored a painful black and blue. He wants to cry, but he swallows down his tears - hroat burning with the effort - because after being supported by Iwa-chan all his life, it’s finally Tooru’s chance to give back. And to do that, he’ll need to remain strong and steady for his best friend.

 

“Iwa-chan,” he whispers, and sits in the uncomfortably hard chair next to the bed, taking his friend’s hand in his own. “I’m here.” And he rests his head on their joined hands, closing his eyes and slowly letting sleep overtake him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I apologize for disappearing for months! I've been gone from all social media and I've been so stressed lately, but I finally got around to finishing this chapter.
> 
> That being said: there is a part two! And three!
> 
> Part two will focus on Iwa's recovery and Iwaoi getting together (finally). Part three will be another adventure, set even further in the future. They will be married with a kid! So look out for those stories if you're interested.
> 
> Also, please leave kudos or comments! They are very welcome and they make me incredibly happy! Thanks for reading!


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